First time I found myself,

I lost.

I was much the same,

for what I hated you.

 

I lost,

I must be going now.

for what I hated you,

I should hate myself now.

 

I must be going now,

I am much the same I hate.

I should hate myself now,

every times I will find myself again.

 

(Source: phantom poem from chapter 4, of book ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’)